If I Lose Myself
by iluvtorun
Summary: Five times Felicity slaps Oliver, and the one time she kisses him. From a Tumblr prompt by amouretutresdemons. Spoilers for S2. Angsty, T for violence and mild language.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Tumblr prompt from amouretutresdemons. Turned out way angstier than I planned. No big shocker there. Going to try and keep each section 1K words or less. I wish Tumblr hadn't eaten my first version of this last night … that one was a little more raw and detailed than this one. Hope you enjoy! Part 1/6._

I.

The first time Felicity slaps Oliver Queen, it is just seconds after Slade Wilson has breathed his last breath. Felicity had known how the encounter would go down, because Slade had spent considerable time telling her, in excruciating detail, exactly what he was going to do to her, and how Oliver would hold himself responsible. He had told her all about Shado, and all about Oliver on the island. He told her all of it, while they waited for him to come.

She didn't doubt that he would come for her. But she didn't see how he could stop Slade. The mirakuru coursed through his veins, and he was so intent on his revenge that he failed to see reason.

All too soon, Oliver was standing before her, flanked to the left by Dig. The rooftop was cold and wet under her knees as she watched him, his face hidden by the shadow of his green hood.

"Let her go, Slade," Oliver growled. "This has nothing to do with her." She could hear the edge of desperation in his voice.

Slade's hand touched her shoulder, making her jump. "Of course this has nothing to do with her. Just like Shado had nothing to do with Ivo or Sara. But she died anyway. Because of _you_." Slade grabbed her pony tail, pulling her head back. She heard the sickening, distinctive sound of a too-long blade being pulled from its sheath. Oliver stepped forward as she cried out, coming into the ring of light thrown from single solitary lamp on the roof. She could see his face then, and felt the tears flood her eyes. Because it was obvious, from the misery etched into his face and the tortured expression in his eyes, that he already believed. He already believed everything Slade had said. He blamed himself for Shado, and he would blame himself for her. She wanted to tell him it was ridiculous, but instead she closed her eyes. She knew what came next because Slade had told her, and she didn't want to watch his face as it happened. So she closed her eyes, feeling the tears fall, and waited for the blade to end her.

Except it didn't. There was a flurry of movement and sound, and suddenly her hair was released. She could sense Oliver next to her, cutting the binds on her arms. But when she opened her eyes, it wasn't his face she saw. It was Slade Wilson's, lying on the wet rooftop in front of her, eyes staring into space. Dig would tell her later that it was Roy who dealt the final blow, using his strength to end Slade once and for all, but in the heat of the moment Felicity didn't see him there. Oliver moved between her and the grotesque sight then, cupping her face in both his hands as he said her name. She brought her hands up to grasp the cool black leather that covered his wrists, allowing him to ground her. He was alive, and she was alive, and she hadn't expected either of those things to be true just a few moments ago.

But when she looked into his eyes, she was shocked by the pain and torture that she still saw in those blue depths. She let her hands drop, unable to believe that Slade had won after all. Before she realized what she was doing, she raised her hand and slapped him.

He took a step back, shocked. His hand came up to his face, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Felicity …" he began.

She interrupted him, unable to let him finish. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold herself together much longer. "How could you Oliver? How could you _let him win?_" He was stepping toward her again, and now it was she who took a step back. "How can you believe what he said? It isn't your fault. Shado wasn't your fault, and I wouldn't have been your fault." She reached up and tried to wipe the tears running down her face, but it was pointless, because they just wouldn't _stop_. Her hands were shaking; she knew the adrenaline was gone and it was only a matter of time until she lost it completely. She needed to get away as soon as possible. Away from Slade Wilson's disembodied head, away from the rooftop where she had come to accept her own death, and away from Oliver's tortured eyes. She was alive, and he still looked tortured.

Dig must have seen that she needed to get away, because he was suddenly there, incasing her in his protective embrace and pulling her toward the stairwell. He didn't say anything as he pulled her along. She managed to hold it together until he stuffed her into the back seat of the Mercades and started driving. She finally let her tenuous grasp on control go as they drove the dark streets of Starling City. She sobbed for Shado, whose life had ended too soon on an island hell. She cried for Oliver, who would always blame himself. She cried because even though he was dead and she was alive, in a way Slade Wilson had still won.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Slight overlaps with my Ivo story "Felicity's Apartment" . . . in term of Ivo's "family" name. This is another one of those things that I hope doesn't happen. Because Ughhhh, even Oliver can't be that stupid. Right? RIGHT?_

II.

Six months later, Felicity slaps Oliver for the second time. Slade may be gone, but Oliver's island life continues to come back to haunt them. This time it is Anthony Ivo who returns, the man who held a gun to Shado's head and killed her; the man who threatened to kill Sara; the man that Oliver thought he had killed. Like Slade, he is not dead. Unlike Slade, Felicity recognizes his face. She has seen Anthony Ivo's face before. She actually has a picture of him in her living room. It's the only picture she has of her father. Of course, she knew him by a different name. To her, and her mother, he was Anthony Ivonsen.

Finding out her father was a homicidal sociopath would have been enough. It really would have been enough to _just _have to deal that. After she figured it out, though, and was trying to pull herself together, she saw Oliver watching her. It wasn't the fact that he was watching her that made her stomach drop to her toes (and not in a good way), but the pinched corners of his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched. She knew that look. It was the look Oliver often got when he was hiding something. She had seen that look a hundred times, but she had never seen that look directed at _her_. She swallowed down the dread, and set to work finding out how Ivo had gotten to Starling and what name he was using.

Hours later, after Oliver was exhausted and sweaty from training with Diggle and her hands hand cramps from typing for so long, she finally worked up the courage to confront him. Dig saw it coming, and hustled toward the exit, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he went. She gave him a half smile, stealing herself.

"So . . . " She said. She watched as he leaned against the med table, watching her with guarded eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited. And waited. Finally she sighed. "Come on, Oliver."

His jaw clenched and he shook his head. "You aren't going to like it."

She shrugged. "I don't like anything I've learned today, why should this be any different. It's bad enough that, just by chance, I ended up working for your company when you were, again, _by chance_, stranded on an island where my apparently insane father came to . . . to . . . God, I don't even know why he was there. I mean, yeah, the mirakuru. It always comes back to the mirakuru, but I don't even know the details. Do I even _want_ to know the details? Probably not." She signed and looked at Oliver.

He was just sitting there, jaw working. _Oh no_. "Oliver . . . "

She watched as he swallowed. "It wasn't by chance."

"Sorry, _what?_" She couldn't believe the words he'd just said. "When you say 'it wasn't by chance' . . . you mean _what _exactly? Him ending up on the same island as you?" She recognized she was starting to breathe way to fast.

"You working at Queen Consolidated wasn't by chance." He shifted uncomfortably and looked at the floor.

"I was hired when you were presumed dead, Oliver," she said slowly.

"On the freighter, when Slade took over, I ended up in a cell next to Ivo," Oliver said slowly

_No, no, no_. _This didn't make any sense_. She didn't see how what he was saying could possibly make any sense . . . unless. . . She bit her lip, refusing to think the worse.

"And he told me about his wife. And about his _daughter_. He had been keeping tabs on her, even after all those years . . . even from the center of the South China Sea."

He had known. He had _always _known, ever since that first day in her office in the IT department. "How?" She choked out. How could he have possibly gotten her hired at QC when he was, for all intensive purposes, still dead?

Oliver shook his head. "It's complicated . . . I wasn't always on the island. I made . . . connections."

He was moving toward her then, and reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. A tear she didn't realize had escaped. She pushed his hand away and stood up, needing to move away from him. Everything was _too raw_ just now. He had known for _years_ who her father was. Worse, he had known what had happened to him, what kind of person he had been, when she had known neither of those things . . . and he had never seen fit to let her in on the secret.

She brushed by him, needing to escape. He reached for her, and she was spinning, slapping him in the face before she realized what she was doing.

She remembered the last time she had slapped him, and how it had taken him by surprise. This time he looked like he had expected it, and welcomed the punishment. "Felicity . . ."

She closed her eyes as he said her name. Her name on his lips had always, _always_ spoke volumes. Right now, though, it simply _hurt_. "And to think," she said as she opened her eyes and stared at the beams of the ceiling. "To think I told myself that you always told me the truth." She slid her gaze down from the ceiling and locked on to his eyes. "A complete load of bullshit." He stepped toward her, a hand outstretched, and she put her hands up. "Don't, Oliver."

"I didn't know . . ." he said softly, and her heart ached because he sounded broken. "I wouldn't have imagined . . . When I came to you in your office that day, I don't know what I was expecting, but you took me completely by surprise." She closed her eyes again, and felt the tears slip down her cheeks.

"Walter didn't give you my name when you were looking to access Deadshot's laptop, did he?" She asked softly, even though she already knew the answer.

"I never would have imagined that _that_ would have led to where we are today. Never in a million years, Felicity. I didn't know that you would know my secret. I didn't know that I would _want _you to know my secret."

She swallowed, nodding. She had no idea where they should go from here. "I'm . . .I'm going to go. I need to process."

His jaw clenched. "I'll see you in the office tomorrow?" She noticed that he said it like he wasn't sure of the answer.

She nodded, and turned to leave. This time he didn't stop her. She picked up mint chip ice cream on the way home.


	3. Chapter 3

_Shorty . . . enjoy! The other two shouldn't take too long if I can just find the time to sit down and write them. _

III.

The third time Felicity slapped Oliver Queen was only a week later. Ivo was reigning terror down on the city, for reasons that completely escaped all of them. Oliver had decided, unilaterally and without consulting her, that she needed to _leave_. Or maybe it hadn't been a unilateral decision, because John Diggle stood off to Oliver's side, holding a bag that looked suspiciously like it had come from her apartment.

"This isn't up for discussion, Felicity," Oliver said in a tone that brooked no argument. At least, it _usually _brooked no argument. Felicity never backed down from a fight with this man, especially when he was being pigheadedly stupid, and she wasn't about to start now.

"The hell it isn't!" She said, getting right up in his space. "My life, my . . ."

"Not this time," he cut her off, stepping into her too. His voice lowered, and lost the edge of anger and annoyance. "Not this time. Dig will take you to Central City. I've already spoken with Barry, he has a place for you until whatever _this_ is ends."

She shook her head. "I should be here. I can _help._"

Oliver's jaw clenched. "I don't know what he wants, Felicity. I don't know what's motivating him, or what he hopes to accomplish. But what I _do_ know is that he cared about you, back then anyway, and I'm not going to take the chance that he's going to try to get to you, or that he may try to hurt you."

She threw her arms up in frustration. "That doesn't even make any _sense_, Oliver! If he cares about me then I SHOULD STAY. If he cares about me then maybe _I_ can help. Maybe I can talk to him, or make him see reason, or . . ."

He cut her off again. "It's NOT HAPPENING!"

She couldn't help it. She slapped him again. As soon as she did it, she pulled her hand back, and for the first time, she was immediately remorseful. Well, at least she was remorseful until Oliver threw her head back and laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full on laugh. Then she wasn't sorry at all. In fact, she sort of wished she'd punched him instead.

"I swear, Felicity, if someone had told me a few months ago that you would make a regular habit out of slapping me in the face, I would have laughed."

Her hands fisted as she glared at him. "You are laughing _now!_" He was insufferable sometimes. "There is nothing funny about this!"

His eyes locked on to hers and he sobered immediately. "No, there isn't. That's why you have to go."

"It's my life Oliver!" She cried, unable to see his logic.

His gaze was intense, and it made any further argument die on her lips. He took her elbows in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the storm raging in his beautiful blue eyes. "I don't know what he wants, Felicity . . . and after Slade, I won't risk it. I won't risk _you_." And then he looked at Dig, and she was being led to the elevators.

She had stayed with Barry for a full week. Until Sara had called her and told her that they were losing ground. Dig and Oliver hadn't wanted her to know. Of course her boys had wanted to keep her safe. But Sara understood that Felicity couldn't lose any of them, so she called when things got desperate. Oliver was livid when she showed back up in Starling. But in the end, it made all the difference. She had been able to convince her father to stop his rampage against the city and turn himself in.

When it was over, Oliver glared at her from across the foundry, his jaw working. "I thought we had agreed, Felicity."

She let out a sigh. "I couldn't stay there when you needed me here."

"It could have ended badly."

She shook her head, trying hard to tamp down her rising frustration with his words. "It was _going _to end badly. With you, or Dig, or Sara, or Roy . . . or Detective Lance . . ." Her arms went around herself at the thought. "I had to try. And it's fine. He's in jail, and you are all alive, and so am I. I'd do it again."

Oliver simply sighed. "I know," he said softly, before turning and walking up the stairs. She could only watch him go.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Finally finding some time to purge this from my head, woohoo! So surprise, 2 in one night. This one is short too. A bit of fluff, really, because the next one will be another angst filled mess. I hope you enjoy! _

IV.

The fourth time Felicity slapped Oliver came the following spring. Roy had told Thea their secret, and Oliver was throwing a fit of epic proportions.

"It's not your secret to tell!" He said, getting in the kid's face. And yes, Roy had learned to control his rage a heck of a lot better in the year since he had started working on the team, but getting in his face and screaming didn't seem like the wisest of ideas. Neither Roy nor Felicity pointed out that it was not _just_ his secret anymore. Roy was out there nearly every night now.

"I'm tired of lying to her," Roy said, his voice calm. But Felicity watched his jaw work, and she knew his rage was simmering just below the surface.

"You just put her at risk," Oliver ground out, invading Roy's space even more.

The kid held his ground and his fits squeezed. "She's already at risk, because of you. How many times has simply being your sister nearly gotten her killed?"

Felicity watched Oliver's fists ball, and she stepped forward before things got further out of hand. She put her hand on his arm, but he shook her off. "It's a whole different kind of danger, knowing this secret!" Oliver shouted.

"She has a _right to know_," Roy said succinctly. "She _deserves _to know, to not have all of us lying to her every single day."

Felicity heard the truth in his words, but Oliver was shaking his head. Felicity said his name and reached for him again, and again he shook her off. Alrighty then. Apparently she wasn't going to get through to him with calm words and a gentle touch.

She met Roy's eyes, giving him notice she was getting into his space, and he stepped back as she stepped in front of Oliver. "Enough!" She said sternly.

"He had no right Felicity," he said, and he went to physically move her from between him and Roy, his murderously angry eyes still locked on the younger man.

So she slapped him again. Those angry eyes shifted from Roy down to her, and his jaw worked. "Again?" He said in disbelief and annoyance.

"Quit being unreasonable and I will quit having to slap you," she said evenly.

"He didn't have the right to tell her," he said, and his shoulders fell forward a little, giving her an indication of how much keeping the secrets—especially from Thea—weighed on him.

"But he isn't wrong, Oliver," she said, again reaching for his arm. This time he didn't shake her off. "She _does_ have a right to know." She thought about how long it had taken Thea to forgive him last year, when Slade had told her that Malcolm Merlyn was her father. It had taken them most of the summer to get back on solid ground. "And isn't it better that it comes from Roy, than from another enemy down the line?" Oliver's eyes tightened at the though, his breath leaving him in a whoosh. His gazed dropped to the floor as she continued. "Roy shouldn't have to keep secrets from her either, Oliver. She deserves to know."

"It's dangerous," he said, sounding defeated.

She nodded, unable to argue with that. "Yeah, it is. But isn't it better that she knows, so it doesn't blindside her?" _Like last time_. She didn't say the last part, but she knew he was thinking it. His gaze lifted back to hers and he could see the weight of it in his eyes. But as she watched, he came to terms, and the anger faded from those remarkable blue depths. The pain was still there of course, but there was also a bit of relief there too. She knew he was relieved that there was now one less lie to tell.

His hand covered hers on his arm, and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you," he said.

She looked over her shoulder at Roy. "Thank _him_," she said, turning back to her computers.

Roy barked out a laugh. "I wouldn't hold your breath on that one, Felicity."

She decided to simply be pleased that they didn't break anything when they sparred.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Whoopsie, so much for 1K words or less. I knew this one would be longer. Thanks for all the kind reviews/follows/favorites. Glad you guys are enjoying this, it has been fun to write. __Enjoy! _

V.

The fifth time Felicity slapped Oliver was the day was released from the hospital. An undercover mission had gone horribly sideways less than week before. They had been working to take down a sadistic man involved in human trafficking. In the typical fashion, this particular baddy masqueraded as a rich philanthropist, so they had been attending a fundraiser at his home. When the time was right, she and Oliver had slipped away to access his computers. Once they knew how his operation worked, they would be able to bring him down. Things had been going according to plan, until Oliver had been drawn away by an altercation downstairs. It had come as a complete surprise when their target had caught her accessing his computers. He had attacked her, stabbed her, and very nearly killed her. Her memory was spotty at best. She remembered the pain of the man's knife as it slid into her stomach through the red evening gown she had chosen for the night. She remembered Oliver's voice, calling her name. And then she remembered nothingness. When she woke, Dig told her she had been out for a few days. The blade had done a significant amount of internal damage, and she had spent three hours in the OR. She noticed the tightness in Dig's eyes, and wondered what he wasn't saying.

She was in and out of a drug induced haze, so it took her longer than it should have to realize what was missing. _Who _was missing. Sara came to visit, and so did Roy. But she hadn't seen Oliver.

"Is he okay?" She eventually asked Sara the following morning, toying with the jello in front of her with a spoon. This was _not _her idea of breakfast.

Sara leaned back in her chair. "Ollie's . . . he's having a hard time with the fact that you were hurt."

Felicity set down the spoon and leaned back with a sigh. "He's blaming himself?"

Sara shrugged. "I don't even know what he's doing, Felicity. He won't talk to me, or to Diggle, or to Roy."

"He hasn't been here though?" She asked.

"Not since he and Dig brought you in," Sara said, shifting in the chair again. "How much has Dig told you, anyway?"

She shrugged. They hadn't really talked about it. She'd been so out of it since waking up. They hadn't really talked about anything. So Sara had told her the worst of it . . . that she had flat lined on the emergency room table when Oliver and Dig had brought her in. That the moment she was stabilized, Oliver had taken off. That he hadn't been back since, and had been running himself into the ground ever since. That he'd been more reckless than usual.

She made them swear not to tell him she was being released. She had Dig drop her off at the Foundry instead of taking her home. With a groan, she sank down against a pillar, out of sight of the door, knowing that if he walked in and saw her sitting at the computers, he may not give her a chance to talk to him. Eventually she heard the door open and heard his soft steps as he came down the stairs. He put his bow into the case, and suddenly his shoulders tensed. She wasn't sure what she had done go alert him to her presence, but he now knew he wasn't alone. He turned slowly to face her, pulling off the mask as he did so. He glanced at her for the briefest of moments, then focused on the wall over her right shoulder. "You shouldn't be here," he said softly, and her throat clogged at how empty his voice sounded.

"Where else would I be?"

He shook his head slightly, focusing harder on the wall. "Resting. Recovering."

She pushed herself up and walked toward him, but he still didn't look at her. When she reached out to touch him, he took a step backward. She was confused, and more than a little hurt by this. She had expected that he was beating himself up because she had gotten hurt, but she didn't really understand this. He turned his back on her and walked toward the bathroom. "Go home, Felicity."

She couldn't help the flair of anger that came up at being dismissed. It hadn't been the greatest week on the records, and she was too tired to carry out this brooding hero routine much longer. Her side was sore and her stitches ached and she would prefer being home in bed. But there was no way she could sleep if she didn't know what he was okay first. She stalked after him, saying his name as she reached around to grab his arm. He shrugged her off again. "Go home!"

He repeated with more force. Even though it hurt, she sped up and dashed between him and the door to the bathroom. "I will not, not until you stop being ridiculous!" She said.

His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, a storm of emotion, before he clenched his jaw and started to turn in the opposite direction.

Her hand connected with his face before she really knew what was happening.

The next thing she knew, her back was next to the door frame, and he was surrounding her. He must have physically picked her up and moved her, but she had no recollection of it actually happening, it had been so fast. His arms braced against the wall, fully extended on either side of her head, as if he was holding himself as far away from her as possible while still keeping her trapped between the wall and his body; his chest heaved as whatever he had been holding in rose to the surface.

His stormy blue eyes held hers. "Your heart stopped, Felicity," he ground out, nostrils flaring. "For almost a _fucking minute._"

She shook her head at him. "So WHAT, Oliver? Yours has, too, you know! I've had to stand in this room watch you flatline."

He bent his elbows ever so slightly, bringing them closer. His head dipped, and she finally got a glimpse of the pain beneath the pent up anger. "It's not the same," he whispered. "I thought you were _gone_." The way he said it made her heart hurt. He had already lost so much, she supposed another loss—any loss—would break him. She felt his left hand move to where her ponytail fell across her shoulder, a finger simultaneously toying with it and brushing her collarbone.

"I'm right here, Oliver." As if there was anywhere else she would be.

His head dropped, and he came closer still. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. "Why? Why are you still here?" At first she thought he was asking why she wasn't dead, but then he clarified. "I've almost gotten you killed more times than I can count, now, and I kept things from you I shouldn't have . . . _Why are you still here?_"

This was the closest they had ever come to discussing the fact that he hadn't told her about her father. After everything that had happened with Ivo, they had never talked about it—it had just been too big to tackle, and in the end, it didn't really matter. She knew what she wanted; she knew where she wanted to be.

"Because we make a difference," she said. She wanted to touch him, but she wasn't sure it was the best of ideas right now. Things were too raw, and she didn't want to do something, or start something, that they would both regret later. "Because I help _you_ make a difference."

He let out a long lengthy exhale, his head dropping further as he came closer. He moved his head slightly from side, and she felt his nose brush his hair. She closed her eyes, cursing her treacherous heart for feeling things she knew he would never return. "It was too close," he whispered. And then he was pulling her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug that was nearly too tight. She let him hold her, and held him back, because really, how could she not?

When he stepped back from her, he gave her the slightest of smiles. His eyes looked less haunted. "You _really _need to stop smacking me," he said.

"You _really_ need to stop being an ass," she said with a shrug. "Drive me home?"

He nodded. "Yeah, just let me change first."

"And then can we get food?" She called after him, finally hungry for the first time in days. "They think Jello is food in that place. It isn't."


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

A few weeks later, Oliver tried to send her away again.

There was no rhyme or reason behind it. She and Dig had gone out to get burgers from Big Belly for everyone. Sara shot her a look as she came down the stairs that had her immediately on alert. Oliver was training with Roy on the mats.

"What?" Felicity asked, as soon as she was close enough to Sara that Oliver wouldn't overhear.

Sara exhaled heavily. "Not sure, but something's up. He's acting . . . off again. Like he did when you were in the hospital."

"Great," Felicity said with a sigh. "Thanks for the heads up, I guess."

Sara gave her a reassuring smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't think straight when it comes to . . ."

"Anything?" Felicity interrupted. It earned her a laugh from Sara, which made it worth it.

Roy came and grabbed his burger, sitting down in a chair by the med table. Oliver continued on the mats. Deciding there was no sense in putting off the inevitable, Felicity grabbed the bag containing his burger and hers and walked to the edge of the mat. She watched him as he hit the training dummy in quick, rapid succession.

Things had been . . . _tense_ in the past few weeks. That is, _Oliver_ had been tense. He had tried to put on a pretense of normalcy, but she could see something simmering under the surface. Something was bothering him more than he wanted to let on. He was fighting a war with himself over something. She just didn't know _what_ the something was.

"Oliver," she called, giving up on waiting for him to finish. "Sustenance." She held the bag up and wiggled it.

He wiped the sweat from his face with an arm and looked at her. "Not hungry." Without sparing her a second glance, he went back to hitting the dummy.

Felicity let out a sigh. Some days the man truly wore her out. He had to make her work for everything. She slipped off her heels and stepped onto the mats. "Come on, Oliver," she said, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She was no longer referring to the food. He stopped again, and the look in his eyes let her know _he _knew she wasn't talking about the food anymore either.

"I think you should go," he said suddenly.

The words didn't really make any sense to her . . . not in that order, coming out of his mouth just now.

"Sorry, what?" She said in confusion, stepping closer.

"You. Need. To. Go." He said it slowly, each word clear and marked. She watched as his jaw worked, his eyes boring in to hers with a cold edge they had never had before, at least not when they were turned in her direction.

"Go?" She was still confused. "Like, go home?" His eyes tightened, and she started to understand. Oh, no, no, no. He could not be serious. "Or like, go on, Felicity, thanks for the help, bye bye now."

And then the bastard nodded to her, just once. Oh _hell _no. She was in his face in an instant. Immediately she regretted her decision to remove her heels because she was practically eye level with his chest. "Give me _one good reason_," she snarled, poking him in the chest. He started to speak, but she cut him off, poking him harder. "And don't you dare say that it's too dangerous, or that it's safer this way or any of that other _bullshit_, Oliver, because it IS my life. And it IS my choice, and THIS is what I choose."

She poked him again, and he caught her hand. His finger wrapped around her wrist, his thumb on her palm. "It's my life, too, you know," he said, his voice surprisingly soft given the way his eyes had looked a moment ago. The finger on her palm moved, igniting a fire on the skin he touched. What in the _hell _was he doing?

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are not making any sense, Oliver. Is this about . . . " She gestured a free hand to the area of her side where she had been stitched up. From the way his eyes narrowed, she could see that the answer was yes. "Oh _come on_!" She cried incredulous, yanking her hand away.

"Felicity . . ." He started, reaching for her arm.

She swatted his hand away. "No, Oliver!" She was poking him in the chest again. "N-O, no way are you sending me away again! Not happening. You . . . you don't get to make my decisions for me. Yes, something could happen to me. And _yes, _something will most definitely happen to you." She realized both hands were poking him in the chest now, but she really didn't care. She was so tired of the same old lines from him. "You've been stabbed and shot and . . . . and . . . " She threw both her hands in the air in frustration. "And EVERYTHING, but I'm not standing here telling you to stop!"

"It's not the same!" He yelled, repeating the words he had said to her a few weeks ago, when she had been released from the hospital.

"Why not?" She demanded, standing on tip toe to get as much in his face as possible. "Because I don't understand _at all_, Oliver."

He exhaled in frustration, looking toward Dig, Sara, and Roy, who were unabashedly watching them, their food forgotten. "Because . . . because I can't lose you, Felicity."

She heard the words, but she understood what he meant was that he could lose anyone _else_. She was just at the forefront of his mind at the moment, because of what had happened recently. "Things happen all the time, Oliver. There are no guarantees in life."

He closed his eyes at that. "I can't lose you," he repeated, but he sounded defeated. His shoulders sagged, and his head dipped, and she felt his nose touch the crown of her hair ever so slightly. She had that same breathless feeling she often got when he stood so close. _There are no guarantees in life_. Her own words echoed in her head, and she gave up on the constant battle she raged with herself when it came to giving Oliver physical comfort. She always wanted to touch him, and she tried her best to keep it at a minimum. But just then, she couldn't remember why. So she reached up, and she cupped his face between his hands.

His hands came up to her wrists, and his eyes met hers. "You aren't going to lose me," she said. "And I'm not leaving, and you are not sending me away. But you really need to quit being such an ass."

The side of his face lifted in a smile. "Are you going to hit me again?" He asked, and there was a touch of humor in his voice.

"Nope," she said, popping the p. "Today I'm going to try a new approach." She surprised them both when she stood on her tip toes and kissed his lips, just the briefest brush. He looked down at her in surprise as she came back down to flat feet.

His eyes searched hers. "Felicity . . ." He said. And then good lord, he lowered his head, kissing her, and the world fell away. His hands wrapped around her back, pulling her close. His lips devoured hers, soft warmth surrounded by rough, delicious stubble. At some point, she became aware of Dig clearing his throat. Repeatedly. Whoopsie. Oliver released her, but his hands stayed on her hips as she stepped back. His forehead dropped to hers. "Maybe you should have done that the first time," he said, and he was _smiling_.


End file.
